Finding the Omega
by Chanooa
Summary: After Scott tells the pack about his new relationship with Danny, Stiles runs away because he is in love with Scott. The pack goes and lets him know that he's not alone.
1. Chapter 1

***many many thanks to orionastro, for reading all of my crap and giving me this great idea!***

Danny smiled, resting his head against the wall behind him. He panted, dreamily half-closing his eyes as a satisfied smile crept across his face. He couldn't help feeling like everything was perfect. The room was warm as a breeze came in through the open window, and a soft, filtered light illuminated the perfect scene. Scott's toned, tanned form lay next to him, his bronzed abs rising and falling as he caught his breath. Stiles almost couldn't believe how perfect everything was. The weather was nice, he and Scott had the house to themselves for a few more hours, and he was lucky enough to have an incredibly attractive, tanned, muscular, naked boy in his bed. The mattress bounced and creaked beneath him as Scott climbed off, puttering around Danny's small bedroom as he collected the discarded clothing. The bigger boy smiled as he watched Scott's perky, tanned butt bounce around the room. "Hey Scott?" he called. Scott turned around to face Danny, holding his clothes in his thick arms. "Thanks."

"For what?" Scott's crooked face took the mystified, dense look that Danny had seen many times since they'd first met.

Danny's dimples deepened as he chuckled. "You know... That thing you did."

"Oh, yeah," Scott blushed, and his eyes dropped to the floor as he began busying himself with putting on his clothes. "Don't... get used to it. Like I said, I don't think I can take that every day."

Danny and Scott had gotten kinkier than usual. They'd started having sex a few weeks prior, as a means of simply getting off. Scott was looking to fulfill his needs while he and Allison were broken up. However, it had developed into more of a relationship as the lines between their friendship and their romance had begun to blur. Since then, however, Scott had been carefully hiding their relationship from Derek and his pack. It didn't feel right to tell them, since they weren't actually dating. But he was never comfortable hiding a secret from the other wolves, since they could easily tell when he was lying.

"So, I was thinking, maybe it's time," Scott said as he slipped on his maroon t-shirt. He avoided Danny's dark eyes, adjusting the fabric over his torso.

"Time for what?" Danny said, casually putting his hands behind his head, using them to comfort his skull as it rested against the wall. His huge biceps flexed as he did so.

Scott looked at the boy on the bed, having difficulty focusing with the naked boy on display so close. "To tell Derek," he said, meeting the boy's eyes. "About us."

Danny was quiet, reflecting for a moment. His eyes traveled up and down Scott's muscular form, pondering the possibilities. He didn't feel like he really loved Scott, but he enjoyed spending time with him, and he enjoyed the sex. He was fairly certain that Scott felt the same, which is why he was surprised that the Beta wanted to take this step. "If that's what you want," Danny said uneasily, now feeling exposed as he lay on his bed. He slid from the bed, crouching down to collect some of his clothes.

"Would tomorrow be okay?" Scott asked, leaning against the open window through which he'd come. "I'll drive you home from school, and we can go to the subway station."

Danny stopped collecting the clothes, dropping them on the floor. Suddenly, everything seemed to be happening too fast. He stood up straight, with his back to Scott. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, he thought through the entire situation. He didn't really love Scott, but they'd only been together for a few weeks. In fact, he was unsure of how long they'd actually been 'together', since it had started out as innocuous fun. When had it actually turned into a relationship? Had it? Were they actually dating? It felt more like they were still friends, but with sex. What was that called? Friends with benefits. That's how he felt, but clearly Scott felt differently. For a while, Stiles could tell that his best friend was interested in guys. He hadn't actually 'come out' as gay yet. In fact, it was possible that Scott wasn't necessarily gay. Danny realized that his friend was significantly more invested in the relationship than he was.

Danny had always been better able to understand other people's emotions than most. It probably had something to do with the fact that he'd had to act like a therapist to both of his parents as he bounced between them after the divorce. He tried to gain some perspective on why his friend was acting the way that he was. Well, it was clear that Scott was gay, or at least liked men. So maybe he was connecting his homosexuality with his relationship with Danny. So, Danny figured, by telling people about their relationship, he'd be coming out. Scott was probably trying to fill the void that Allison had left, and found in Danny a willing substitute. He was probably more invested because he wanted to feel validated. He was probably clinging to Danny because he assumed that the attraction that he felt to the boy was love. In reality, they were just good friends, and had sex on the side. Furthermore, Danny was one of the only gay men that Scott knew, so maybe he'd just flocked to the first gay man he could find. Unfortunately, Danny had grown to like Scott even more as they spent more time together. He didn't love his partner, but he enjoyed talking to him and spending time with him. As such, Scott had misinterpreted their friendship as love, probably because of the sex.

Satisfied that he'd figured it out, Danny turned around to face Scott, asking "Do you love me?" He was hoping that the sudden question would catch him off guard, making him analyze his feelings. Instead, Danny was caught off guard. As he turned to look Scott in the eye, he was surprised to find the space previously occupied by the boy empty. He'd jumped out the window while Danny had stood, thinking. His posture slouched as his shoulders stooped. Now he'd have to go public with his relationship with Scott.

Hearing his door opening behind him, Danny turned, expecting to see Scott. He realized why Scott had left in such a hurry. Mr. Mahealani was poking his head through the door, about to talk to his son.

"Dad!" Danny shrieked, his tanned face and broad chest rapidly turning red as he grabbed for something to cover his genitals with.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny looked at Scott, trying to decide if he should tell him his theory. Would he be mad if Danny surmised their entire romance as Scott trying to find acceptance? Probably. But Danny still weighed that against the threat of going public with their relationship. Sighing, he opened the car door, sliding out and leaning against the metal while Scott looked for his house key within. Looking out at the old abandoned subway station, Danny couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. He didn't really think of Scott as his boyfriend, but now he'd have to commit. _I guess it can't be all fun and games forever,_ he thought. _Eventually, someone is gonna fall in love and want something more._

"You nervous, too?" Scott asked, a smirk playing on his crooked jaw.

Seeing the cute boy so apprehensive made him feel bad. Surely he could manage to commit for Scott's sake. He did like the Beta a lot, he just didn't love him. "Yeah, I guess so," Danny said, pushing off of the car and starting reluctantly toward the entrance leading underground. "Though walking into an enclosed space beneath the ground filled with werewolves would make most people nervous."

Scott chuckled nervously, his mind obviously elsewhere. They descended the old, broken stairs. The subway had once been an attempt to expand a nearby city into Beacon Hills and urbanize the little town, but nobody had particularly taken to it. Not enough people worked in the city, since the little town had enough jobs, so there were only a few occasional passengers. Eventually, they had to close it, since it was taking more money to keep open than it was making. Now the empty station was the new hang-out spot for Derek's pack, since the hunters began keeping a closer eye on the burned house where he used to dwell.

Descending the stairs, Danny took stock of the werewolves in the cluttered, dirty station. Isaac and Peter were rifling through some equipment in a box, Peter explaining something to the Beta in muttered words. Derek Hale was sitting on a wooden box, his legs crossed as his eyes moved moodily across the pages of an old looking book. Stiles was there, too, though not technically a werewolf, sitting in a subway car. He was looking bored while flipping through something on his phone. Scott had explained to him that Stiles was usually among the pack, since he'd been instrumental in a few important situations that they'd faced. Derek only begrudgingly accepted him, but everyone else treated him as an equal member. Danny got the feeling that Scott hoped that his pack would accept his new boyfriend in as well, though Danny didn't particularly want to be a part of the group. It was cool and exciting, but also seemed incredibly dangerous and unwelcoming.

Jackson walked out of a subway car as Scott and Danny reached the bottom of the stairs. Danny relaxed, knowing that his best friend would always have his back. If things got out of hand, he and Scott would be able to protect him. And Jackson would always accept him, so Danny wouldn't be totally alone whenever he was thrust in with the pack. He could tell that Scott was hoping to have the type of romance that he saw in movies, which would mean hanging out with his friends a lot. The thought didn't particularly appeal to Danny as he watched the group of werewolves come closer with supernatural speed.

Stiles was the last to greet Scott and Danny, having no werewolf powers to aide his trek across the station. They all convened around a bench, on which Danny and Scott sat side by side.

"So what did you need to tell us that was so important?" Derek asked, seeming somewhat annoyed at the boy's insistence of a pack meeting. He stood in front of the pair, with Peter at his right and Isaac at his left. Stiles stood behind Scott, leaning over the back of the bench, and Jackson was sitting beside Danny.

Scott looked at Danny, then across all of the faces of his pack before settling on the ground in front of him.

"You seem nervous, Scott," Peter said, with his usual glinting eyes and slight smirk. Everyone could tell, even Stiles. He didn't need werewolf senses to tell that the boy was uncomfortable.

Everyone sat in confusion, trying to discern why Scott would be nervous, and why he would call a pack meeting, and why he'd bring an outsider. Everyone, that is, except for Peter. The eldest wolf always seemed to be a step ahead of everybody else, probably due to his experience.

"Well," Scott started nervously, "I guess Danny and I are...dating." Though tempted to analyze the faces around him, Scott fought the urge, insisting on continuing his staring contest with the ground.

Danny nervously glanced at the reactions of those around him, though only really interested in Jackson's. Stiles looked down at the bench in front of him, silent and seemingly thoughtful. Derek's jaw was clenched, but his eyes looked more confused and inquisitive than angry. Peter's face was the usual mask of condescending awareness, as if he always knew what was going to happen next, and pitied you for not knowing. Isaac looked mildly surprised, but altogether nonplussed. Jackson took a deep, exasperated breath while rolling his eyes.

An awkward silence followed, finally broken by Jackson. "Really? McCall is the best you can do?" he said in his usual haughty tone. "First you go for the murderous, obsessive psychopath, and now you're going for the pathetic wolf who can't pass Algebra?"

This flippant comment seemed to lighten the mood. It was pretty much what Danny expected: it was Jackson's way of giving his acceptance. Peter joined the ribbing, saying "Really, Danny, just because a stray dog follows you home doesn't mean you have to feed it."

"Yeah, are you just trying to make Scott stop beating you up on the field?" Isaac said, trying to be a part of the group. Both boys blushed as they remembered their first intimate moment. They were on the field, and Scott had tackled Danny. He lied on top of the boy, sniffing him. They'd joked about the awkward moment a few times since, but it was undeniably the moment they'd decided to pursue one another.

"This isn't funny," Derek snapped in a serious tone. Isaac and Jackson seemed to sober up quickly, and Scott looked up at the Alpha. "Dating a werewolf isn't easy. Nor is it safe."

Derek eyed the larger boy, searching his deep brown eyes. "I-I know," Danny said. "I mean..."

"He could change at any moment, especially in a moment of passion," Derek said, his cold words seeming to take away any romance to the moment he was describing. "On a fully moon, he could change and come find you. Plenty of fatal animal attacks are reported every month."

"Allison was a human," Isaac suggested, trying to help Scott, who looked hurt.

"She was a hunter. This is different. Danny had nothing to do with any of this, and now he has no choice. Normally I'd forbid it, but," Derek cast a cold, authoritative look at Scott, "I'm not your Alpha."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Even though Scott wasn't under Derek's control, he still valued the man's opinion and took part in his pack for safety. Unsure of what to do, Scott considered his options. He looked up, trying to ask for another opinion. "Where's Stiles?" he asked, looking around for the boy.

All of the wolves looked around, realizing now that the boy had managed to sneak off without alerting the pack of supernatural beings. Scott stood, following the scent of the boy into a subway car. The others stayed behind with Danny, sensing that this needed to be a moment between the two boys. Scott reached down, touching the shoulder of the crumpled form sitting on the seat of one of the old subways. Scott was surprised when he looked down: Stiles' deep eyes stared back at him, tears streaking his face.


	3. Chapter 3

"No, listen, I'm really fine," Stiles said, pacing around in front of the leaf-strewn entrance to the subway station, which was covered with several pieces of plywood when the city closed the station. Derek kept these on the entrance like a door, so that no passersby would suspect that anyone had gone inside of it.

"No, Stiles, you aren't," Scott insisted angrily, standing with his back to the entrance and watching Stiles pace. He tried to control his volume, so that the wolves inside of the station wouldn't be able to hear them. He was sure that they would all be straining to listen through the layers of plywood. "Why were you crying?"

"I was just overcome with joy that you and Danny had finally found love," Stiles said sarcastically, rubbing his sore eyes as he sniffled. He continued to pace in the night air, his breath forming clouds in front of him as his eyes avoided Scott. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he kicked up leaves as he walked.

"Stiles, seriously, tell me," Scott said, his eyes intently following the boy as he moved about nervously. "We've been friends forever. If something is bothering you, just tell me!"

Stiles glanced up into Scott's eyes. He looked deeply into the boy for a minute, as if trying to make a decision. He sighed heavily, the resulting cloud of breath hanging in the cold air, and looked back down toward the ground. He stopped pacing, leaning against one of the columns supporting a small roof that protected the subway entrance from rain. "I dunno, it was just kinda tough to hear, y'know?" Stiles mumbled quietly.

"Why?" Scott asked. Stiles' eyes flashed briefly up to look at the boy. He smiled to himself, recognizing Scott's dense look of confusion. In the many years that they'd been close friends, Stiles had seen that look a lot. His friend was not particularly witty, nor could be be described as quick witted. These were the things that Stiles loved about his friend; the way they were perfect foils for one another.

"I guess I was..." Stiles started, trailing off as he looked toward the distant woods. "I guess I was kinda hoping that you might wait for me." As he said this, Stiles poignantly looked directly in Scott's eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the lyrics to a song he liked played, ironically matching the scene.

"Wait for you? Wait for you to do what?" Scott asked, the distant look deepening as Scott was confused further.

"I wanted you to wait until _I _was ready," Stiles said, pain in his deep eyes as tears welled once more at the corners. "I... I think I, like, love you or something. I dunno. But the point is, I've been sort of having trouble coming to terms with it. I mean, I've been trying to figure out some stuff. I was almost there; I was almost ready." As he spoke, Stiles folded his arms in front of his chest, his eyes occasionally darting around, but always falling back to Scott.

Scott continued to stand, looking at his friend. The information was still too much to process. "You...love me?" Scott asked, his face contorting as he tried to make sense of the flood of information. Stiles liked men. More specifically, Stiles loved him. His best friend. And he was sad. Because Scott loved Danny. But he liked Stiles more than Danny. But he was dating Danny.

"I mean... yeah, I guess. Yes, I do. I love you, Scott McCall," Stiles said, interrupting Scott's internal monologue. "I can say it now. I do, I love you. I love you! But you don't love me, so it doesn't matter. You've got Danny and, once again, I'm all alone. But I'm just supposed to stand by and be supportive? Why is it that life is always dealing _me_ the short end of the stick? I mean, I have to grow up without a mom, and I also have to help my dad deal with the loss while I try to. Then I fall in love with Lydia, but she's some kind of soulmate for Jackson. Then _you_ get wolfy superpowers, while I'm left with the big supernatural mess. And now, I finally realize that I like you more than just a best friend, hell, I love you, and you're in love with Danny. Meanwhile, I just stand by, supporting and helping everyone else. Why do I have to be everybody else's rock? Who's my rock? Who can I depend on?" Stiles breathed heavily after ranting, his bitterly sarcastic words hanging in light, misty clouds before disappearing into the universe.

Scott's muscles tensed. His head felt like a funnel that had been overloaded with sand. The string of realizations hit his consciousness in a slow trickle. Stiles. He liked men. And Scott liked men. Men like Danny. He had just gone public with Danny. And now Stiles. Stiles loved him. And Stiles gets short sticks. He is supportive. He supports Scott. He supports Scott because he loves him. "You...love me?" Scott sputtered again.

"Yes!" Stiles yelled, now fed up with the usually charming slow witticism of his friend.

Both boys turned as one of the pieces of plywood was shoved aside. Peter came out, goosebumps raising from his skin as it hit the cold air. "Is everything okay out here?" he asked, rubbing his arms with his hands as he continued out of the entrance.

"Wonderful!" Stiles said with bitter, over exaggerated sarcasm.

"We heard screaming," Peter said, though Stiles and Scott were fairly certain that they'd managed to hear at least a little more than shouts. The former-Alpha looked at the angry, hurt face of Stiles, then to Scott's confused, muddled countenance.

"Stiles...loves me," Scott said, still trying to sort everything out. Stiles laughed acrimoniously. Peter raised an eyebrow while looking at the boy, though from his facial expression, Stiles knew that this wasn't the first time the man had heard the news.

"But now he's in love with Danny and everything is hunky-dory for everyone else," Stiles said.

"Why don't we walk back to your car?" Peter suggested, wrapping a thick arm around Stiles' shoulders and steering him in the direction of the beat-up Jeep.

After a few moments of walking quietly in the darkness, Stiles broke the silence. "If you're looking to have some kind of an after-school-special heart-to-heart, I'm sorry but I'm fresh out," he said, still fuming.

"I know you're angry," Peter said in a calm, patient tone. "But you know that Scott isn't trying to hurt you."

"But why is it that everyone else gets something? Everyone gets these awesome lives, full of adventure and romance, but I'm stuck being a lonely human trying to clean up after wolves," Stiles said, feeling put-upon.

"You've got plenty of adventure; more than most 'normal humans' will have in a lifetime. And you'll find love. You just have to-"

"-be patient, yeah, I've heard that a million times before," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "Everyone always spews that crap at me. I know it's just something people say to make you feel better. I've been pretty patient so far, but it doesn't seem like it's gotten me very far."

"Maybe you're already further than you think," Peter said in an omniscient tone. "Maybe someone does love you. Maybe they just don't know it yet."

"Sure," Stiles said, slowing as they approached the Jeep. "Even if that is true, I don't want anybody else. I love Scott. I'm pretty sure that I have for a long time. But I guess he doesn't love me."

"You kids think you know everything. Maybe you should just be patient and see where things go. People do surprise you," Peter said. Though his words were light and helpful, they were delivered with the Alpha's usual surly, dour tone, adding an air of condescension and impatience to the advice.

Walking back to the entrance of the subway, Peter saw that Scott was in the exact same position as when he'd left. He heard the Jeep roar to life and drive off as he approached the boy.

"You okay?" Peter asked, seeing Scott still looking confused and bewildered. His eyes rose from the ground to meet the man's. Peter saw a plea for help in the dark eyes as they searched his face. "Right. So, I take it you're a little...overwhelmed." Scott nodded. "Okay, well think this through. Stiles loves you." Scott nodded, his eyes now reflective as they processed what the older wolf was saying. "You just revealed to us that you're dating Danny." Scott nodded. "But you also like Stiles?" The boy nodded again. "And you like Stiles more than you like Danny?" Again, he nodded. "And you think you love Danny?" After a moment of thought, Scott responded with a nod. "So..."

"I...love Stiles?" Scott said, epiphany dawning in his eyes as they met Peter's. The man merely cast a knowing, smug smile at the boy.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey mom," Stiles said, nervously walking up to the grave. He tentatively set the flowers down, picking up the wilted bouquet from the last time he'd come to see his mother. He used to come almost every day, but as time went on, his visits started becoming less and less regular. Now he only came to talk to her every month or two. Though he couldn't see her name in the early morning shadows, he knew her grave very well, as well as those around her. He'd spent a lot of time in this area.

He settled down to his usual spot next to her tombstone, facing the large, shadowed rock, feeling the grass, still wet with dew, cling to the legs of his jeans. He felt sad when he realized that the words were starting to wear away. The rock had lost its polish, and was beginning to look like it had been there for a while. Stiles wondered if one day, he would come back and find that her name had been erased from the grave entirely. He'd come to tell her about his decision to leave, or rather, ask her advice on the matter; now he wondered how long it would be before he would get a chance to see her grave again. Choking back the sudden lump in his throat, he started to talk to his mother.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," he said, feeling guilty. "I really should've tried to visit more often. School's been tough. Of course, I'm still doing pretty well, don't worry. But it takes a lot of time. And then there's all the stuff with Scott being a werewolf."

Stiles felt oddly as if he were betraying Scott. He'd promised that he would never tell anyone about his powers, so when he told his mother, it almost had felt like he'd been breaking his oath. He'd even gone so far as to whisper to the grave. Afterward, he felt stupid for being overly cautious; his mother couldn't tell anyone, even if she wanted to. Shivering from cold and from trepidation, Stiles moved onward. "So, I think I love Scott. I know it's crazy, but I do. I can't help it. I tried to tell him, but somehow it came out all wrong. I dunno. I was angry; mostly because he came out of the closet by telling us that he was dating Danny. It felt like I had no chance to ever be with him. Somehow, it was more comforting when he was with Allison. I knew that he could never love me, because he was straight. But now, I dunno. It's different. It's like he could plausibly love me back, but he doesn't. Somehow, that hurts more," he said, nervously playing with the grass between her grave and Mrs. Terrance's. He sighed deeply, trying to control the shaking in his hands and shoulders. Once again, tears fought against his eyes as a lump formed in his throat.

"I know I should really just be happy for my friends, since they've found love. But somehow I can only be bitter. I know it's immature, especially since I never told Scott how I feel. Still, I can't help feeling that everyone else is happier than I am. Everyone else seems to get what they want. I know, I know: the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence," Stiles said, repeating the words that he knew she would say. She'd always been content with what she had, and tried to instill this into her son while she was alive. "It just feels unfair because I've never wanted anything more in my life. I just want Scott to love me back. I just want to have the perfect relationship that we have to become something even better... I just wish you were here. I just want you to tell me what to do." Stiles choked back a sob, his voice becoming strained, barely above a whisper. "I don't know if it's the right thing to do."

Finally, a few tears escaped. He'd managed to keep himself together thus far, but the thought of going through with his plans scared him. He crawled closer to the grave, leaning his shoulder against the stone as he shivered from the wet, dew-covered grass clinging to his legs. He couldn't bring himself to actually cry; he'd exhausted his ability to really cry when he was young. Now, he just let a few tears slip down his face, almost relieved to be able to let down his emotional walls just a little bit. A song popped into his head, echoing a memory. He was in the same position, but it was his mother that he was leaning against, instead of her grave. She rubbed his shoulders with her hands, comforting her son as they sat on her bed. Resting her head on top of his, she started to hum. Then, words came through, filling his body with assurance and warmth. He sang along to the memory, his voice harmonizing with that in his head. "Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Show me what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand. In other words, baby, kiss me," as he sang a memory of his mother kissing the top of his head comforted him, making him feel safe and sure.

Opening his mouth to sing more, Stiles realized that he was alone in a cemetery, singing to a grave. He wiped his running nose, laughing to himself. "If you were here-" Stiles looked at the rock, spots of the reflective varnish still shining on parts of the stone. "If you were here, you would tell me to keep singing, I bet." He smiled, thinking about how she always had encouraged his singing. She would always tell him how beautiful his voice was, making him join the school choir and take music lessons. He never particularly liked those when he was little, though he'd come to appreciate his knowledge of music now that he was older. He only really liked singing when it was the two of them, singing while cooking or cleaning or dancing around the house. His dad would come home and smile, watching them sing at each other, running through their little home. Even after his voice changed, Stiles was still a talented singer. His singing voice was surprisingly melodic, contrasting with his usually scratchy voice. His mother always compared it to honey. After she died, he only sang when he was alone at home/ Singing was a special memory he'd had with his mother, and he couldn't bear to drag out this raw, intimate feeling in public.

_Sing for me_, she'd asked him in one of the last times he ever saw her. He'd cried while he sang, muddling his way through their favorite song, Fly Me to the Moon. After she died, Stiles would sometimes comfort himself when he was alone at night by singing their song. He would curl up under the blanket and sing into his knees, imaging his mother's soul, healthy and vibrant as she danced on the moon shining through his window. _Don't stop singing_, she'd said from her hospital bed. He'd started another song, still sobbing. _Don't ever stop singing. Don't waste your talent. Share it while you still can._

Deep chills reverberated within him, making every inch of his skin raise in goosebumps. Sitting there, beside her grave, Mrs. Stilinski had given Stiles the answer he'd come for. Tears started rolling from his eyes now, harder than he'd been able to do in years. Crying in earnest, Stiles hugged his knees to his chest. "Thank you mom," he mumbled through his tears, his words muffled in the knees of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his eyes dry and stood. "Thank you."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Scott," Sheriff Stilinski said, opening his front door. He didn't seem surprised by the uninvited guest.

"Hey Mr. S," Scott said, chewing the edge of his lip.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither unsure of how to breach the topic of the elephant in the room. "Oh, sorry, come in," Sheriff Stilinksi said, remembering the niceties that his wife had usually taken care of. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Scott said, coming into the familiar house. He noticed that it was decidedly less tidy than usual. Sheriff Stilinksi led his young guest into the kitchen, sitting down at the dining table. Scott followed, sitting opposite the man. The usually overpowering scent of Stiles had faded, and Scott could tell he hadn't been in the house for a few days.

"So..." the Sheriff awkwardly, looking around the room to avoid Scott's eyes. "How's school?"

"Alright, I guess," Scott said awkwardly before realizing that it was a good opportunity to approach the awkward topic. "But I haven't seen Stiles around school in a while."

Sheriff Stilinski looked down at the table, knowing that Scott was going to bring it up eventually. "Yeah," he said, picking at a spot of sauce on the table.

"And he hasn't been answering my texts or calls. And nobody has seen him since..." Scott stopped, remembering the dramatic night that he'd last seen Stiles. "...in a while."

"Listen, Scott, I'm really sorry, but I can't really tell you much," the Sheriff said, looking the boy in the eyes as he leaned forward slightly.

"What?" Scott asked, both confused and slightly frustrated.

"All I can really tell you is that Stiles is gone, and he won't be back for a long time," Sheriff Stilinski said, settling back into the chair, his shoulders still tense. He didn't like playing these games, and he especially didn't like having to deliver bad news to close family friends: he'd had enough of that after his wife passed.

"What?" Scott asked, bolting forward in his chair. "He's...gone?" Suddenly, a feeling of loss came over him. He'd known that it would take some time before his best friend was willing to talk to him, but now he realized that he may never talk to him again.

"I don't even know that much, to be honest. But he asked me not to tell anyone any specifics. I don't know why, but that's all I can tell you," he said, almost pleadingly. Scott's face dropped as a lump formed in his throat. His best friend was gone forever? And he didn't even get to say good bye? Worse yet, their last encounter was the biggest fight they'd ever had. "Aw, listen, Scott, I'm really sorry. I hate that I have to do this to you. I wish I could tell you more, really, but Stiles was pretty adamant."

"It's okay Mr. S," Scott said, pulling himself back into reality. He could tell that this was hard on the older man, who'd been like a father to Scott since he was young. "I understand."

An awkward silence followed before Scott quietly stood, making his way to the door. "Scott," the Sheriff stopped him, twisting in his chair to face the sullen boy. "Listen, I know this is hard... I- I'll let you know anything as soon as I can. If I can. Okay?"

"Alright, thanks Mr. S," Scott said, pretending for the Sheriff's benefit to be perked up by this concession. Walking out of the house, Scott wondered if it was the last time he would ever walk out of the house in which he'd practically grown up. A million questions buzzed in his head, held down by an overriding feeling of sadness. _Where is Stiles? Why did I go after Stiles? When did he leave? Where is he? How am I going to tell everyone else? Why all of the secrecy? Where is Stiles? Do I really love him? Should I have told him that I love him? And where is Stiles?_

_**the song in this chapter was Fly Me to the Moon, by Franks Sinatra**_


	5. Chapter 5

"How long is he gonna be gone?" Isaac asked after a long silence. The entire pack was still trying to digest the fact that one of its members had left suddenly and totally unexpectedly.

"I don't know," Scott said, his frustration obvious in his voice. "I've already told you everything Sheriff Stilinski told me yesterday."

"Well, the longest he could've been gone is six days now," Derek said, the gears working in his head reflecting in his eyes. "If we'd gone the first day that nobody saw Stiles, like I wanted, it would've been shorter," he said, eying Scott with contempt, who had convinced him to give Stiles some time. "His trail should still be detectable, though. If we can get a few of his things, we can get more familiar with his smell. Then we can check all of the major highways, assuming he didn't take any-"

"So what!?" Scott barked, feeling overwhelmed and abandoned. "So what if we find him? Then what? We drag him back here by his neck and keep him locked up in a cage? If he wants to leave, he has every right to. We're not a pack of dogs, we can't go hunt him down and bring him back!"

"Well if you have-" Derek stopped himself this time, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. He looked the Beta square in the eyes, controlling his temper and the urge to put the underling in his place. He knew that Scott was in pain, and lashing out. "I was just thinking that we could go and try to talk to him. Maybe he'd realize that he has a place here."

"If he doesn't care enough about me—er, us to stay, then he can stay gone," Scott said, sulking angrily. Danny sat awkwardly, his shoulders tense and his body still, watching the scene play out. It was painfully obvious that Scott loved Stiles, and that he was feeling hurt and alone since his best friend left him. He was probably angry that Stiles would leave him, especially in such an unexpected and dramatic way. Suddenly, Danny wondered how he'd gotten dragged into all of this. Not so long ago, he didn't know that werewolves even existed. Now, half of his town seemed to be affiliated with some kind of supernatural creature, including his best friend. Furthermore, he hadn't been looking for a serious relationship, and somehow he'd gotten latched on to a needy, reactionary closet case with a disappearing best friend. Everything suddenly seemed a bit ridiculous to him. These werewolves and their packs made no sense to the boy.

"I feel bad for the kid," Peter said, breaking the short silence. "I mean, I get why he did it."

"Yeah," Danny picked up nonchalantly, not particularly thinking about it. "He was rejected by the only person that he'd ever really loved, the person who'd been there for him through the tragic and untimely death of his mother. He felt like nobody cared about him, and he had nobody in Beacon Hills to stay for. So he left, running away from his problems to start anew, leaving behind the pain of of his deep roots, which had been severed."

The pack stared at their newest member in amazement. He looked up, realizing that he'd perhaps said too much. "Dude," Jackson said, his usual sneer in place on his face. "You should write the summaries on the backs of romance novels for something."

"Anyway," Peter said, diverting the pack's attention. "If we were to find Stiles and show him that his pack still cares, he'd probably come back."

Everyone considered the option for a moment, reflecting on their own relationship with Stiles. Somehow, he'd managed to make a fairly positive impression on every member of the pack. Despite his shortcomings and insecurities, Stiles always had good intentions and a natural instinct to care for others.

"Well, I do kind of hate to think of him in pain," Isaac said, his wide eyes staring into the distance, reflectively. It was almost as if he could see the lean boy, crying and alone as he found his way around a strange city. When he thought of the caring, sensitive boy, a smirk involuntarily crept its way across Isaac's defined face. He really always had the best of intentions, just like Scott."I guess he's kind of grown on me."

The silence that pervaded the room was heavy with thought, as each person reflected on what Stiles meant to them. "Well," Derek said, "there's no way that I'm letting a member of my pack go." Though the boy was often getting in his way, Stiles seemed to have some things that the wolves lacked. He was devoted to researching whatever they needed to know; he was like a pack fact-checker. Also, the boy was good for Scott; they needed each other. They fed off of one another's energy. He had the same sort of leadership that Scott had, though at times somewhat less thought-out. Still, he could refine Scott's good intentions, making them into decisive action. All things considered, Stiles was a definite boon to the pack. Secretly, Derek had always appreciate Stiles' help, and had even occasionally enjoyed his wit.

"I don't really care one way or another," Jackson said, realizing that it was his turn to speak. "Bring your little butt buddy back, leave him there to rot, it's all the same to me." Jackson took on the cynical, aloof face that he'd often worn, surveying his pack's reaction. Nobody seemed surprised at Jackson's selfish opinion, though Danny shot him an ugly look.

Rolling his eyes, Jackson amended his statement. "I mean, if you're all gonna go and waste your time finding him, I guess I could manage to come along with you. If I have to," Jackson said, belabored.

"Well," Peter said in his chipper, yet somehow condescending and bitter tone, "I'm all for it, if it means we'll have someone around to make sure the police stay out of our way. So it's settled: we'll start looking for Stiles."

"Okay," said Derek, taking over in his natural role as Alpha. "Danny, you get looking on the computer to see if you can find anything about where he's gone. Scott, you go see if you can get anything from his house that has his strong scent. Isaac, you talk around to people at your school and see if anybody know anything. Jackson, call Lydia and see if she knows anything, and mostly just stay out of the way. I'll see if the hunters know anything; they tend to have this town on lock down. Everyone, keep your phones on, and call me if you find anything." Everybody scattered after the Alpha's commanding voice stopped, setting about beginning their tasks. Though Scott had displayed better skills as a planner and coordinator, he'd forgotten entirely about his refusal of Derek as his Alpha and leader. In his vulnerable state, he was looking for guidance from anyone who could help him get Stiles back. Though he was a great tactician and leader, Scott was totally clueless when it came to matters of the heart.

"Hey, Peter," Derek called, catching up with the wolf as the rest of the pack split up. "You know something, don't you? I mean, you want Stiles back for a reason, don't you?"

"What a smart little Alpha you've become," Peter quipped. "I have a strong feeling that Stiles isn't necessarily an ordinary human."

"You mean he got the bite from someone?" Derek asked, confused.

"No, but I think he and Dr. Deaton will have a lot in common," Peter said with a mischievous, ominous smirk.

Derek's mouth was open, dumbfounded. "You don't mean he-"

"Hey guys!" Danny yelled loudly, interrupting the Alpha mid-sentence. "You all might wanna come see this before you go!"

Everyone turned around, following Danny's voice to a small table with a computer. Danny was sitting on an overturned crate, hunched over the laptop. Peter and Derek were the last to convene, both peering over Danny's broad shoulders at the little, bright screen.

"I think our search is over," Danny said, a hint of irony in his voice. "This was on my facebook newsfeed."

He clicked on a button, and the thumbnail of a video expanded to fill the screen. It was a mass of indiscernible blobs before he hit the play button. After a few minutes of adjusting the camera, the video eventually focused on a small stage in what looked like a coffee house. The stage was empty, save a microphone on a stand. Someone with an acoustic guitar slung across his shoulder dragged a stool onto the little stage, his back to the camera as patrons of the cafe walked between the filmer and the man onstage. He adjusted the placement of the stool, then the height of the microphone, before finally sitting on the stool. He positioned his hands on the guitar, then his fingers on the strings. As the person looked up from his guitar, the entire pack felt a collective shock to find Stiles' face staring at them from the computer screen.


	6. Chapter 6

***bit of a time warp, this is before the video that everyone saw in the last chapter was filmed***

Stiles' heart felt heavy as he looked down at the phone. The word Dad was displayed, along with a picture of the two of them from last Halloween, Stiles wearing a police uniform and his dad dressed as a prisoner. He'd called his dad a few times since he'd left, mostly just to let him know that he was safe and sound on his trip from Beacon Hills to Seattle. They'd only spoken briefly, since it was far too painful to talk for more than a few minutes. Of course, neither of them would admit that. But Stiles and his dad had only had each other since the death of his mother, and they'd supported each other along the way. The hardest thing for Stiles to do was leave his dad, especially since the man was totally clueless about how to run a household. Still, Stiles thought that it would be good for the man to figure things out on his own for a while. Maybe he could transfer to Seattle in a few years. Stiles was still feeling unsure about his future, so he managed to comfort himself by saying that he would be back with his dad soon.

Sighing, he hit the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hey Dad," Stiles said, already missing the man.

"Hi Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski responded. He sounded sad, even somewhat desperate. Stiles hated hearing his dad like this, and hated even more that he knew he was the cause.

"How are you doing?" Stiles asked, more out of social convention than actual curiosity. In truth, he knew how his father was doing. He was probably sad, moping around the empty house, eating take-out every night and forgetting to take out the trash.

"Fine, fine. Things are good here. And you? How's Seattle? And how's your Uncle Jeremy?" the Sheriff asked, his forced-casual tone feeling weird to Stiles. In general, they had been fairly open and honest with each other, mostly because they couldn't manage to keep their emotions about Stiles' mother's death bottled up around the house. That was the worst part about keeping Scott's secret from his dad; he hated lying to him, and hated avoiding him even more.

"Seattle is pretty cool, though I haven't gotten to see much of it yet. And Uncle Jeremy is good. He's out right now if you wanted to talk to him, but he just moved into a pretty swanky apartment. It's pretty nice," Stiles said, looking around at the chic, modern bedroom with massive windows offering a beautiful view of the city, with a glimpse of water visible in the distance. The room felt sterile, though, since it was a guest room and had just been decorated a few days ago. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring out into the city and wondering how many heartbroken people were living in the millions of tiny windows.

"Oh, that's good," Sheriff Stilinski responded. A long silence followed, in which neither wanted to continue the small talk, nor move on to the bigger topics. "So... Oh! Scott stopped by a few minutes ago."

Stiles was quiet for a long moment, a million thoughts being shot into his head at once. He pictured Scott in his empty house, talking to his dad amongst the dirty dishes and unwashed floors. He thought about Scott sitting next to Danny as he told everyone that they were dating. He wondered if Scott was missing him. He wished that Scott had come to confess his love. He wished he could have been there to greet Scott at the door. "How is he?" Stiles asked, trying to avoid an emotionless monotone.

"He seemed... fine. A little tired, maybe," Sheriff Stilinski responded, though it was clear from his voice that Scott was not fine, and was in fact very obviously suffering.

"What did you tell him?" Stiles asked, his stomach clenching with nervousness and anticipation.

"Just that you would be gone for a long time," the man said dutifully, somewhat proud at having kept his son's secret. "Actually, it was kind of awkward."

Stiles was silent for another moment, considering the possible implications of what he'd just heard. Was it awkward because Stiles wasn't there? Or because Scott was upset? Or because his dad was upset? That last possibility hurt him more than he thought it would. "So... how did he take it?" Stiles asked with some trepidation.

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "Well, you guys were friends for a long time. I mean, obviously, he wasn't exactly happy," he said, going quiet for another moment. "I hated not being able to tell him anything."

"I know, Dad," Stiles said, his voice compassionate. "I'm really sorry that you had to get into the middle of all this."  
"What is 'all this', Stiles?" his dad asked, sounding tired of getting the same avoidant answers to the same question. "What's going on?"

"Dad, you know that I can't tell you," Stiles said, immediately regretting sounding so harsh. "I mean, I don't think I'm ready yet. I'll tell you when I'm up for it."

"Okay," his dad said, his voice betraying the fact that he was trying to support his son's decision and respect his privacy, but he was unsatisfied with the answer.

"Did you take the trash can to the curb yesterday?" Stiles asked after another long, awkward silence. This conversation seemed to be full of them.

"Yeah," his dad responded, clearly lying.

"Good. And don't forget that you're almost out of dishwasher detergent. And don't forget to empty the lint from the dryer. And please tell me you're not eating red meat every night," Stiles said, unsuccessfully trying to keep a lid on his outpouring of worry for his father.

"Yeah yeah, I know, Stiles. Remember, you're the kid here. I'm the parent. I should be worrying about you," he responded, though both knew fairly well that Stiles was more conscientious than his father.

"Okay, Dad," Stiles said, trying not to cry.

Another long silence stretched through their conversation. "So... keep in there, son. Remember that I love you, and I'll support you no matter what you decide to do. Be good to your uncle, and thank him a lot," Sheriff Stilinski said, his voice trailing heavily over the casual parting words.

"I will, Dad," Stiles responded, choked.

"I love you," his dad said.

"I love you, too," Stiles said through the lump in his throat. He looked down at the phone until the screen went to the main menu after his dad had hung up. A tear drop fell on the glass, making the pixels look magnified.

Realizing how pathetic he must look, Stiles picked himself up, wiping the teardrop from the phone on his pants before putting it back in his pocket. He walked over to his duffel bag and took out his iPod, shoving the earbuds into his ears. He returned to the bed, lying down on the deep layer of fluffy white blanket as he turned the iPod on shuffle. Looking out of the window at the busy city, Stiles began to sing along with every song, feeling the pain in every note. He missed his town. He missed his house. He missed his dad. But most of all, he missed Scott.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles jumped with a start as he noticed someone standing in his doorway. He removed the earbuds from his ears as his heart rate returned to normal. "Sorry, did I startle you?" Stiles' Uncle Jeremy asked from the doorway. "I knocked first."

"It's fine," Stiles said, blushing a bit. "I was just listening to some music."

"Yeah, I heard," Jeremy replied, causing Stiles' blush to deepen. He'd never really let anyone hear him sing.

"Sorry, I'll keep it down," Stiles replied, suddenly finding it necessary to avoid eye contact with his uncle. Though they had a fairly close relationship, Stiles still found it awkward when someone caught him singing.

"You're really good, you know," Jeremy said, trying to delicately approach the subject.

Stiles hid his now deeply red face in his knees, drawing them up to his chest. "Thanks," he mumbled politely, suddenly wanting the conversation to be over. He didn't like people's obligatory compliments, especially when he'd been caught in such an intimate moment.

"You know, there's this coffee shop a few blocks over that my friend runs. He has a little talent show every Friday. It gets a pretty good crowd, and the winner gets fifty bucks..." Jeremy suggested tentatively, trying not to embarrass his nephew while encouraging him.

"I don't think so," Stiles said.

"Alright, if you say so. But I've been there a couple times, and you would totally blow the competition out of the water. Just saying..." the man said, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts.

Stiles continued to sit on the bed for a while, his head resting on his knees while he began to consider the possibility. He doubted that he honestly was a good enough singer to sing in front of other people. Singing alone in his room was one thing, but with other people watching and judging? No, that would be asking way too much.

Of course, he didn't have much else to do. Really, he hadn't made any friends or even acquaintances yet. Maybe this would be a good way to meet people. And there was no chance that he'd see anyone that he knew, if he made a complete ass of himself. And really, it was just some dumb competition in a place that sold coffee. It wasn't even worth all of the thought that he was putting into it.

But singing was just so personal for him. Other than the occassional accident, nobody had heard Stiles sing in many years. Was his voice even that good any more? Had he lost what his mother had called the honey in his voice? He remembered one of the last things that his mother had told him. _Don't ever stop singing. Don't waste your talent. Use it while you still can._ She knew that her death was impending, and she'd impressed upon him the fleeting nature of life. She'd tried to tell him that he wouldn't be able to sing forever, and that he should let others hear his gift before it was too late.

Still, the prospect scared him. All of those other people. The only person that he wanted to sing for was Scott. He wanted to show Scott his gift, and express how he felt using song. It was hard for him to tell Scott things like this, since they were so close. It was even harder for Stiles to pin down the emotion long enough to find words to accurately describe it. Song would be easier. And more meaningful.

_Would've been_, Stiles reminded himself, since he'd now not only expressed his feelings for Scott in the worst way possible, but had also removed himself from any possibility of seeing him again in the near future. It made him sad to realize that he'd never get to live out his fantasy. He'd lain awake many nights, going over different ways to tell Scott that he loved him. He would imagine that he would sing to Scott, trying to tell him how he felt. Scott would understand, and smile, bringing him in for a big kiss after he finished. When they pulled apart, Stiles would say "So I take it that means you feel the same," and they would both laugh through their tears of joy.

It was pretty histrionic, and kind of lame, but it comforted Stiles when he was lying in bed, feeling lonely as he tried to sleep. However, this would never happen now. Scott was in another state, and would never hear Stiles sing. He would never get to kiss Scott. He was alone now.

Still, he had the urge to let out his feelings for Scott. Maybe, in some way, playing out his fantasy in front of a crowd would help him move on. Suddenly, it seemed like a really good idea. Stiles was willing to do anything that would help him move on. He hated how he felt, and he wanted to let it out. Even if it meant bearing his soul to a bunch of strangers. And hell, maybe he'd get fifty bucks out of it.

"Hey Uncle Jeremy?" Stiles called, getting up and walking over to his door. His uncle arrived there before he did, opening the door just as he reached for the knob.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Were you listening outside of my door?" Stiles asked, putting the pieces of his odd behavior together.

"No!" Jeremy responded, his blush deepening. "I was just... putting the towels away," he said, gesturing to the linen closet right next to Stiles' door. Stiles arched his eyebrows at his uncle, finding the explanation dubious. "Okay, I just really like your voice," he admitted.

"Well... that's kind of the thing," Stiles said, biting the corner of his lip. "I mean, I think I might... I think I want to do the talent show thing."

Jeremy smiled broadly. "Oh, great, okay!" he said, forgetting his prior embarrassment. "I'll call Giovanni, the manager, tonight."

"Thanks," Stiles said, now incredibly nervous that he was actually going through with it. He looked at the floor, shuffling his socks on the hardwood.

"It's really not a big deal," Jeremy said, smiling compassionately at his nephew's dismay. "It's just a few people in a coffee shop."

"Yeah," Stiles said, heading back to his bed. It wasn't the people that he was nervous about; he'd be just as nervous if he was singing in front of two people. It was the fact that he was actually going to admit to himself and to the world how he felt about Scott. It was a bit ridiculous that he was so worked up about this. He knew how he felt, and this group of strangers probably wouldn't have any idea who or what he was singing about. They probably wouldn't even notice him, if it was as low-key as Jeremy suggested.

Regardless, he was nervous. Performing in front of other people was always nerve wracking, especially when it was something this personal. He figured that he would just imagine Scott standing in front of him, playing out his fantasy. It was almost a relief, having found an outlet for something that he'd been carrying around in his head for so long. He imagined that it would be like letting the air out of the balloon; a sudden release of pent-up emotions, resulting in a satisfied deflation. The prospect seemed to get better and better the more he thought about it.

Now he had to figure out what to sing! He smiled bitter-sweetly, remembering a line from the song that he'd always imagined singing for Scott. It perfectly captured his feelings for the boy, eerily summing up why he always imagined himself singing his feelings instead of actually telling him. _I don't want a conversation. I just wanna cry in front of you. I don't wanna talk about it, 'cause I'm in love with you._


	8. Chapter 8

**another time jump. Now we're back to the end of chapter five, when they find the video**

Though the picture was grainy, and the sound kind of fuzzy, with a lot of background noise, the boy in the video was clearly Stiles. Everyone instantaneously recognized him, drawing a collective feeling of shock from the pack. Stiles took a deep breath, looking down at the ground. Looking back up, it was clear to Scott that his eyes were elsewhere, not seeing the people in front of him. Scott knew the look well from boring classes in which Stiles was obviously daydreaming.

"I didn't know Stiles could play the guitar," Jackson said callously as the boy started strumming the strings. Danny told him to be quiet, turning the volume all the way up. He continued strumming for a few minutes, then drew his face closer to the microphone.

"I looked away... then I looked back at you," he sang, his eyes unseeing as they watched the crowd in front of him. Though the sound quality was poor and grainy, everyone was taken aback by the beauty in Stiles' voice. It flowed smoothly, sounding as if it was coming from someone other than the wiry, spastic boy. It had a haunting, bittersweet quality to it, clearly coming from a place of great love and great pain.

"You tried to say...things that you can't undo. If I had my way, I'd never get over you," he crooned, his eyes intense. As he sang, the background noise started to quiet as people began to pay attention to the singer in front of them. "Today's the day... I pray that we make it through. Make it through the fall, make it through it all."

He picked up the tempo on his guitar, tensing his shoulders as a powerful emotion ripped through the boy. "And I don't wanna fall to pieces. I just wanna sit and stare at you. I don't wanna talk about it, and I don't wanna conversation. I just wanna cry in front of you. I don't wanna talk about it, 'cause I'm in love with you," he sang, his voice now dualistic in its notes of sharp pain and sweet joy.

Danny glanced away from the computer screen, looking at everyone's reactions. Jackson, who was next to him, was looking cool and detached, as if he were reconsidering what he thought about Stiles. Isaac was clearly trying to keep his emotions in check as he watched the video, looking sad, as if he were remembering some other, happier time. Peter was cold and calculating as usual, seeming to analyze the video instead of watching it. Derek was brooding, his eyes intense as he, like Isaac, seemed to be relating the song to another time in his life. Finally, his eyes landed on Scott. The boy had his arms wrapped around his chest, squeezing them tightly around himself. His face was red under his eyes, but somewhat pale everywhere else. A few tears were rolling down his cheeks, and his nose was running. The pain in his eyes made Danny's heart ache for him. Clearly, Scott was missing Stiles. Danny found himself wondering if Scott was actually in love his best friend. With a heavy mind, he turned back to the video.

Stiles seemed almost timid for a moment as he sang, his voice lowering and his gaze focusing, as if he were sharing a secret. "Wanna know who you are. Wanna know where to start. I wanna know what this means," he sang, almost as if he were imploring the person in front of him to love him back. That thought struck deeply in Scott's mind as he realized that Stiles was singing about him. It seemed egocentric to think so, but he knew his best friend of more than a decade well enough to tell his intentions.

He picked up the tempo once more, intense and strained as he practically begged the audience for love, his voice gaining volume. "Wanna know what is real. Wanna know how to feel. I wanna know everything. Everything," he sang, his entire body responding to the emotions pouring out of his voice.

Through the rest of the song, his voice was sweet and caring, as if he'd achieved his goal. His voice lost all of its bitterness as pure, innocent love dripped from his words like honey. As he approached the end, his eyes deepened, becoming reflective, as if he were looking at the love of his life and wondering how he was lucky enough to have found this person. "I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you," he sang, drawing out the last word like a lingering kiss.

There was a brief moment of total silence when Stiles stopped playing the guitar. Everyone in the coffee house had stopped and paid attention to the singer, causing total silence while he performed. Suddenly, the small room erupted into applause, the noise deafening over the laptop's tinny speakers. Danny muted the video, but they continued watching in silence. When the applause began, Stiles' eyes seemed to snap back into reality. His face immediately broke into a bright hue of red, and his limbs began to shake slightly. Clearly, he was overwhelmed by all of the attention and approval. A smile played at the edges of his lips, self-conscious and humble. He diverted his eyes from the crowd as he picked up the stool, fumbling awkwardly with the guitar. Finding his way off of the little platform, he moved closer to the camera, his eyes toward the ground, but a broad smile barely visible on his hidden face. The video ended, and everyone sat in silence for a moment.

"Damn," Jackson said, breaking the tension. "I didn't know Stilinski could sing." Danny gave him an impatient look, unhappy with the crass comment.

"Where did you find this?" Isaac asked Danny, unsure of what to say.

"Lydia posted a link to it. Apparently, it's gone kind of viral. She congratulated him on getting half a million views," Danny replied

"Alright, I think I can find this place," Peter said, moving next to the chair as Danny got up, allowing the former-Alpha to take command. Danny wrapped a compassionate arm around his crying boyfriend, hugging him close with his large bicep. They began to walk away from the group as Peter and Derek worked at the computer. Isaac and Jackson dispersed, Isaac reflective and silent, Jackson looking for something more entertaining.

"So, Scott, can we talk for a second?" Danny asked, leading him toward the stairs. Scott nodded, and the two boys walked out of the subway station, and out of earshot of the other wolves. Once outside, they both put their hands in their pockets, cold in the waning autumn twilight.

Scott sniffled before speaking. "So, what did you want to say?" he asked, his voice hoarse and cracking.

"Well, uh, I kinda noticed you while you were watching Stiles," Danny said, trying to find the right way to approach the subject.

"Yeah, it was kind of...emotional," Scott said.

"And... I'm guessing a lot of that emotion wasn't just because your best friend is gone?" Danny said, glancing up from the ground to sneak a look at Scott's reaction.

The boy stopped his aimless wandering and thought for a second. "No, I guess not," he said thoughtfully.

"And I'm guessing it's even more than knowing that your best friend is in pain," Danny said, trying to lead Scott to the same conclusion he had.

"Yeah, I guess it's more than that," Scott said, sounding as if he was vaguely aware of where this was headed.

"Maybe you love him?" Danny concluded. Scott nodded in concession, knowing that Danny had figured out what he'd been struggling with since his best friend left.

"I didn't really realize it until he left," Scott said, sounding as if he felt bad for his boyfriend. "I always just kind of assumed that I really liked him as a friend. I dunno, it's all kind of confusing. But I think I get it now."

"So..." Danny said, not wanting to bring up the fact that they were still technically dating.

"So," Scott said in agreeance, also feeling strange about the subject of their now short-lived relationship.

"I guess that's it for us, then," Danny said.

"I'm really sorry, Danny," Scott said, not wanting to hurt his kind and understanding friend.

"I get it. You just got kinda caught up in figuring out who you were," Danny said maturely. "Honestly, I don't know if I was ever really that invested in us as anything more than friends."

"Yeah," Scott said, happy that they could end on a good note. "Though I will miss that ass."

They both laughed, blushing at the awkward and untimely attempt at a joke, but both happy to break the tension. "So let's get looking for Stiles! We need to get you two back together," Danny said resolutely.

"Yeah, but how are we gonna break this to the rest of the pack?" Scott asked, now feeling kind of stupid for making a big to-do about their relationship.

"I don't think we'll have to," Danny said, glancing over at the opening to the subway station just in time to see the top of Jackson's head duck beneath the plywood.

**The song in this chapter was Fall to Pieces, by Avril Lavigne**


	9. Chapter 9

"Shotgun!" Isaac yelled, running to the passenger seat of Derek's Camaro.

"Yeah, right," Peter said, pushing the young Beta out of the way as he opened the car door. "You can get in the back."

Isaac grumbled in submission as he pushed down the front seat, crawling into the cramped back. "Come back from the dead one time and all of a sudden you're the boss," Isaac mumbled as he pushed his long legs into an awkward position.

Jackson laughed. "Maybe if you got a car you could get a decent seat," Jackson said snidely, opening the passenger door for Lydia.

"Jackson, stop being a jerk," she said as she ducked her head into the car.

"Whatever," he said, rolling his eyes and opening the driver's side.

"Not everyone has rich parents to buy them cars," Danny said, pushing down the front seat and sliding into the back behind Lydia.

"I'm sure he got a nice inheritance and insurance claim from his daddy," Jackson said insensitively.

"Jackson!" Lydia shrieked as Scott slid in next to Danny.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Jackson said, putting the back of his seat up and sliding into the expensive leather driver's seat. He'd made a conscious effort to be a little more attentive to the feelings of others since they'd all fought to make him human again.

"Could you move over a little, Danny?" Scott said as they awkwardly tried to fit in the little space.

"Why couldn't you ride in the back of Derek's car, anyway?" Jackson asked. "I don't want you stinking up my Porsche with your loser scent."

"Because Derek doesn't trust you enough to let you keep the cooler with Stiles' clothes in it in your car," Scott quipped back.

"Whatever, we already know where the coffee shop is, we don't even need his stupid scent," Derek whined.

"We do if we don't want to camp out in the coffee house every day until he happens to come back," Scott pointed out, almost smugly.

"I still don't see why I couldn't have Isaac in the back," Jackson mumbled. "Just don't start humping like dogs back there, okay? This leather is expensive, and I don't want your stink all over it."

Both Scott and Danny shot him a nasty look, though Lydia couldn't help suppressing a smile. She'd grown to appreciate Jackson more now after losing him, and tried not to be too critical of him.

The Camaro and Porsche both raced off, Jackson following behind his Alpha at speeds that most cars couldn't achieve, racing to find Stiles.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"I don't think I want to get out of the car," Lydia said, making a face as she inspected the grimy little diner.

"Don't worry, you've got a pack of wolves to protect you," Jackson said, opening his door and sliding off of the creamy black leather.

"Oh good," Lydia said in a clipped tone. "I've got a pack of hungry wolves following me around."

Danny laughed, sliding the back of her seat down as she got out of the car, and following her. Everyone convened at the door of the little restaurant, making a strange, motley sight. "I don't want anybody making a scene," Derek said, realizing the danger of having five wolves in a tiny room full of humans.

"We'll be really good, Derek," Jackson said smugly. "Promise."

As soon as they stepped into the diner, all eyes were on them. There were relatively few people in the out-of-the-way establishment, and the majority of them were locals and regulars. None were nearly as well dressed as the werewolves, most of whom were wearing leather jackets.

The seven travelers arranged several chairs so that they could all sit at one table, then arranged themselves in the seats. They perused the menus, making comments and jokes amongst themselves. A waitress came up, eying the customers as they ordered their food. All of the wolves got the largest, least cooked pieces of meat they could find on the menu. Looking for something relatively safe on the menu for his human stomach, Danny ordered a salad. Lydia ordered water.

"I bet even Stiles would've had balls enough to order a huge, juicy burger," Jackson said, teasing Danny. Everyone got quiet, feeling the loss of their pack member. Even Lydia missed his presence.

"Actually, he's on a soy-kick right now," Scott corrected, his voice distant and somewhat sad. "You know, 'cause of his dad."

Everyone began thinking about their missing comrade. "He'd probably say something inappropriate and hilarious right now," Lydia said, staring at the table. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"It's surprising that he can sing so well," Danny said vacantly. "Y'know, considering his voice."

"Yeah, that's was actually really amazing," Derek commented, remembering the emotional response it evoked from somewhere deep inside of him.

"I've never seen that much emotion from him," Isaac said, more to himself than anyone else.

They all stared at Scott at the same time, realizing that this must be painful for him. "Scott, I-" Isaac muttered, seeing the pain in the boy's face.

"It's fine," he said, smiling though there were tears welling at the corners of his eyes. He sniffled, and looked up at everyone with a forced-cheerful expression. "Once he comes back, he'll think we were all ridiculous for acting like he was dead. We'll all laugh about this.

The waitress came, wordlessly setting down the plates full of meat as she wondered if everyone had just come from a funeral.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jackson sat up straight, his sore back cracking at the effort. He looked into the rear-view mirror, watching Lydia asleep, slumped across Danny's broad shoulder. His head was lying on top of hers as he slept, his breathing slow and rhythmic as his shirt inched its way up his lower stomach. Smiling to himself at the cute scene, Jackson returned his focus to the road. Scott turned around and looked at them, smiling as he rectified himself in the seat.

"That's cute," he whispered low enough that the humans wouldn't have been able to hear him if they were awake.

"Yeah," Jackson whispered back. "They're pretty great."

Scott realized that the two people in the backseat were his closest connections in the whole world. His best friend and his girlfriend. Somehow, girlfriend seemed wrong. It wasn't strong enough to describe the girl whose love had literally saved his life. Scott realized that Stiles now played both of these roles, being both his long-time best friend and now his love-interest, and hopefully soon his boyfriend. He looked over at Jackson, noticing how stiff and uncomfortable the boy looked after many hours of driving. They were still chasing Derek on the highway, despite the fact that it was two in the morning.

"Why don't you let me drive?" Scott suggested, feeling bad for the boy. Jackson scoffed. "I just thought you looked sore."

"I'm fine," Jackson grumbled back unconvincingly.

Scott paused for a moment, thinking. "Why did you come?" he asked.

"Because you needed another car," Jackson said automatically.

"I could've used mine," Scott said, his tone indicating that he though Jackson had another motive.

"That piece of crap? You'd be lucky if you made it half way to Seattle," Jackson replied condescendingly. Scott gave him a look that clearly showed how unconvinced he was. Jackson rolled his eyes and sighed. "And Stiles is part of our pack."

"Seriously, Jackson," Scott replied, annoyed with his evasiveness. It was nearly impossible to lie to your own pack members.

Jackson sighed again, deeper this time. "I guess... It's because I couldn't imagine losing one of them," Jackson replied, eying the rear-view mirror. "I mean, I don't know what I'd do if one of them was gone from my life. I figured you would do the same to help me get Lydia or Danny back."

Scott smiled at this. It was good being part of a pack. Hopefully Stiles would see this.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles sat in the bathroom with his guitar, which Giovanni had lovingly deemed his "star's dressing crapper" on Friday nights. Though Stiles wondered where the patrons of the coffee shop would go to relieve themselves, he'd accepted the gift graciously, grateful for somewhere to gather his nerves before singing. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to calm his nerves. Jeremy had come to see him, and said that there were a lot more people than last time, probably because of the video's popularity. This was probably supposed to make Stiles happy and excited, but somehow the only thing that came out of him in response was vomit. How had he gotten into this mess? He just wanted to let off some steam and maybe make some money. He now had his fifty dollars, along with almost a million views on youtube.

Despite the video's popularity, Stiles was still convinced it was just a fluke. Jeremy had uploaded it without his knowledge, and now nearly a million people had seen him spill his most intimate feelings. Stiles managed to only be mildly upset with his uncle, largely because a lot of the comments on the video were very positive. The thought had crossed his mind that Scott may have seen the video. He'd almost dared to wish that Scott had seen it. But his life didn't seem to work out like that. In all likelihood, Scott would never see the video. And that was for the best; in fact, he hoped that nobody he knew would see the video. It hadn't even reached a million views. Videos go viral every day. This was hardly outrageous success by current standards. It was fairly dubious that anyone he knew would see him sing. And even if Scott did happen to see it, he probably wouldn't understand. He'd probably just be happy for Stiles. Because he was with Danny. He loved Danny. And only Danny.

He started going over the song in his head. He'd already known the lyrics by the time he'd picked the song, but he dedicated the entire week to learning them nonetheless. Uncle Jeremy had suggested that he sing something more painful, since it was hard for him to keep the hurt out of his voice while singing love songs. Immediately, one song popped into his head. On the way to Washington, he'd listened to the song several times. It seemed to sum up his current relationship with Scott perfectly. They'd had a good thing going, headed toward something better in Stiles' mind. However, Scott messed it all up by dating Danny. And he'd messed it all up himself by acting like a four-year-old who didn't get the toy that he wanted. Now, the illusion of his perfect world was shattered, along with the perfect future he'd been imagining. This song seemed to illustrate his exact situation.

"Hey," Giovanni said, popping his head in the door. He was older, but distinguished; every bit the type of person that would own a coffee shop. He had graying hair and an omnipresent maroon apron. His dignified appearance was often offset by his vulgar speech, however. "You feeling okay? I heard you started blowing chunks a while ago."

"I'm fine," Stiles said, weakly managing a half-assed smile. "I was just nervous."

"Alright, well that whiny bitch with the tambourine is almost done, and you're up after her," he said with a smile, ducking out of the bathroom.

Stiles inhaled deeply, standing up and looking in the mirror. He adjusted his t-shirt, smoothing out some wrinkles over his stomach. _It's no big deal_, he told himself. _It's just a bunch of people at a frickin' coffee shop. It's hardly Madison Square Garden. _Gathering his nerves, Stiles walked out of the bathroom.

The hippie girl with the tambourine smiled at him as they passed each other on his way to the stage. He picked up a stool and dragged it over to the little platform where he'd sung his heart out to Scott a week earlier. Adjusting the microphone, he tried to ignore the crowd, focusing only on Scott's face in front of him. If he could manage to pretend that he was singing only to Scott, then maybe he could get through the performance without puking.

Sitting on the stool, Stiles adjusted his fingers on his uncle's guitar. He was surprised that he could still remember how to play the guitar. He'd only had a few cursory run-ins with the instrument since he learned how to play it as a child. Apparently, it was like riding a bike: once you learned it, you never really forget. Still, he'd gotten a lot more practice in the past week than he had in the past few years.

Looking up at the crowd, Stiles froze. His uncle hadn't been exaggerating. The little coffee shop was filled far beyond fire-code regulations, so that every table, chair, couch, and inch of floor space was taken up by onlookers. Were they all there to see Stiles? That didn't make much sense. Why would they all come to see him? He figured that a large number of them were only there because they saw the video and thought it would be cool to see someone they saw on internet, or something like that. There was no way so many people would care about his singing.

Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed. The people seemed to close in around him, to stifle his breathing. He could handle the group of people who happened to be in Giovanni's coffee shop while he was singing; he could block them out. But this was too much. There were too many people, and they were all looking at him.

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from all of the people in front of him. Staring at him. Watching him. Judging. He thought about performing for Scott, trying to let him know how much pain he was in. _Don't ever stop singing._ The words echoed through his mind. _Don't waste your talent. Share it while you still can. _He realized that she was right. His mother would never again share her many talents with the world. When she realized this, she'd tried to let her son know that he had to share his gift while he still could. Because she could never sing again, he would.

Stiles began strumming his guitar, his hands now moving almost automatically to where the were supposed to go. His excessive week of training kicked in, and he was calm, letting his instincts take over. However, he still couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

"Where do you go with your broken heart in tow? And what do you do with the leftover you?" Stiles sang, imagining himself trying to explain how he felt to Scott. "And how do you know when to let go? Where does the good go? Where does the good go?"

As Stiles sang, he tried to picture how Scott's face would look. He tried to imagine a look of comprehension on the boy's face as he heard the words, understanding Stiles' frustrations. He managed to open his eyes, Scott's image fixed in his mind's eye. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive. Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go," he sang, imagining Scott now understanding the fragile state Stiles was in. He imagined Scott would now understand why Stiles took so long to confess his feelings, and why he was so afraid of rejection.

"Look me in the eye and promise no love is like our love. Look me in the heart and unbreak broken, it won't happen," Stiles crooned, imagining Scott now understanding the weight of the situation. He imagined that the boy could finally accept that their relationship had changed forever, and it was up to him now how they would proceed. He held the power to make or break the perfect future Stiles had imagined. Even if it didn't go exactly as he'd foreseen in his head, Stiles would be just as happy to be with Scott. To have him in his life again, and even more than ever before.

"It's love that leaves and breaks the seal of always thinking you would be real, happy, healthy, strong, and calm. Where does the good go? Where does the good go?" Stiles sang, hearing what his mother called the "honey" in his voice. He imagined Scott now able to comprehend why Stiles left. He would know that the power that Scott held in determining their future together was scary now that it had become real. The fact that he'd been rejected by the one person in his entire life who had always been there, through his mom's death, through his struggles with his dad, through his problems in school, the fact that he'd been rejected by the one person that meant the most in his life was too much to bear. So he ran.

He imagined Scott's face breaking, his love for Stiles almost over powering. "Where do you go when you're in love and the world knows? How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down?" Stiles sang bitterly. In his mind's eye, Scott now understood how Stiles felt, half way up the coast, alone and dejected. He'd confessed his love, and everyone he knew in Beacon Hills had seen it. There was no way he could stay, and now he was alone, imaging the love of his life living happily in the arms of another man.

As Stiles made his way to the end of the song, he imagined Scott realizing the incredible weight that they had on one another's lives. They were a consistent source of good in one another's lives. Even when Scott focused all of his time on Allison, Stiles stood by him, helping him through his wolfy problems. When Stiles needed help dealing with his dad, Scott was there for him. They'd stuck by one another throughout their entire lives, and had depended on one another to grow. He imagined that Scott would finally realize the great loss that came with Stiles leaving. Finally, Scott would resolve to set things right, bringing the boy back into his life, no matter what it took. "Where does the good go?" Stiles crooned softly, ending the song with a demure, sullen sort of pain, the kind that comes with accepting a heavy loss in one's life.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Stiles blushed, waiting for the image of Scott to go away like it did last time. However, something was wrong. Did he usually think of Scott with so much stubble? And was his hair always so unwashed in his memories? Did he somehow imagine Scott differently this time? The image of Scott started clapping, wiping tears away with his shoulder. Stiles continued to stare, confused. He looked around, and noticed the people standing around the figment of his imagination. Danny, Lydia, Derek, Peter, Jackson, and Isaac all stood around him. Why had he imagined them? He didn't particularly feel comfortable singing around them. Why had his mind conjured them up as well?

The images start to move, working their way through the applauding crowd to get closer to the stage. Suddenly, Stiles realized that these weren't figments of his imagination, under his control. As if they'd materialized from his subconscious, the pack had actually been at the performance. He hadn't been imagining Scott, but actually watching him.

Tears welled in his eyes as the pack reached the stage. "Stiles!" Scott cried out above the din of approval. He reached out a hand, meaning to help the boy off of the stage. Stiles' stomach dropped as he looked from one face to another. Everyone seemed to be slightly tearful, bedraggled, and proud. What were they doing here? How had they found him?

Stiles looked into Scott's brown eyes, noticing the tears. It dawned on him that Scott had actually undergone the process of understanding that Stiles imagined. Then he looked to Danny. Danny was there. Danny was there with Scott. Suddenly, the air in the room got stifling.

Turning away from the pack and Scott's outstretched hand, Stiles ran. Once again, he turned his back on the pack and ran away. He jumped off of the back of the platform and ran into the little bathroom. Seven pairs of eyes followed him, watching him once again as he ran away from them.

**The song in this chapter was Where Does the Good Go by Tegan and Sara**


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles sat on the closed toilet, holding his head in his hands. It was like a ghost from his past had come back to haunt him. How had they found him? And why would Scott come to see him if he was still with Danny? Everything as far too much. Stiles couldn't handle all of this. A knock on the door broke his concentration from the feeling of drowning.

"Stiles?" Giovanni called, poking his head into the bathroom before Stiles could object. "Are you yacking again? You ran off pretty quick."

"No," Stiles responded, lifting his head weakly too look at the coffee shop owner. "I'm just... having a rough time."

"Okay," Giovanni said. "I've got some people here who say that they know you, though." Stiles grimaced at the thought of seeing his pack. "Should I tell them to fuck off?"

Stiles was quiet for a minute. "Yeah," he said weakly, though every urge in his body screamed at him for it. He knew that he wanted to see Scott, but he couldn't handle it. He'd only been gone less than two weeks. That wasn't nearly enough time to accept the fact that Scott was in love with someone else.

"Alright, you just rest that voice, then," Giovanni said, ducking out again.

Stiles returned his head to his hands, trying to even out his breathing. Okay, obviously it didn't really matter _how_ they all got there. But _why_ was everyone there? Had they all seen the video? Were they just trying to support their friend? It seemed like a lot of work just to watch him sing. And why had they _all _come? He could understand Scott, and maybe Danny. And of course Derek was omnipresent, lurking in the shadows. But Lydia, Jackson, Isaac, and Peter? Why would they bother to come? They couldn't have missed him. They barely seemed to notice him when he was in Beacon Hills. Despite the fact that he did his best to help them all, they'd never particularly seemed to enjoy his presence.

Scott was the last person Stiles wanted to see. How could he accept that the boy he loved was in love with someone else? Especially if he couldn't stay away from them for two weeks? Somehow, it seemed easier to tell himself that their relationship was over. It was easier to imagine that he'd totally ruined everything, and there was nothing else to do but wipe the slate clean. But a part inside of him knew that he'd never be done with Scott. He couldn't get the boy out of his head, and hadn't been able to since he was almost ten. Even if Scott could never love him, he'd always be Stiles' first, deepest love. And a part of him wanted to see Scott. Wanted to take his hand, hop off the stage, and just go back to what they'd been. He could pretend like he'd never angrily confessed his love, and they could just go on as they were, with Danny taking Allison's place. But that could never happen. Still, he knew that he'd have to pick up the pieces of what he'd left behind in Beacon Hills sooner or later. He'd could run away, but eventually it would catch up with him. Apparently, much sooner than he'd expected.

His train of thought was broken by another knock on the door. "I'm fine, Giovanni," Stiles moaned as the door opened. He looked up to see a tan, muscular boy with a crooked smile looking down at him.

"Are you?" he asked, still grinning like a dope.

He gawked up at the love of his life. Every instinct within him screamed to jump up and wrap Scott in his arms. His fingers itched to run through the dark hair. His lips sang out for Scott's. His heart beat rushed blood into his face, making him hot and flushed. But he continued to sit, staring at Scott. Something deep within him tied him to the ground, away from the boy. Fearing rejection, his body set up walls, keeping him from getting hurt. "Hey," Stiles managed to squeak out.

"Hey?" Scott echoed. He stepped closer, sweeping Stiles to his feet, their bodies quickly pressed against each other. "I didn't drive all the way here and spend a week sleeping in a car for a 'Hey'."

Stiles shuddered at the feeling of Scott's breath on his neck. He'd always imagined that it would be as warm and inviting as it truly was. His body turned into jelly the minute his skin made contact with Scott's. Still, that same fear froze his body, making him wrench away from Scott. All of the supernatural strength that Scott had used to sweep the boy up left Scott's body when Stiles suddenly darted from his grasp, hunching his shoulders and turning his back on the boy. "Scott, I... can't..." Stiles breathed, looking at his shadow intermingling with Scott's on the bathroom floor while trying to explain what he'd been feeling.

"Stiles, when I saw that video, I finally realized that I do love you. Not just as a friend. I was wrong, I didn't understand," Scott said, also having a difficult time trying to explain how he felt. "Watching you sing, I felt the same way. I understood how you felt, because that's exactly how I felt. But I sort of assumed it was just because we were friends."

Stiles shook his head, confused and unbelieving. He couldn't comprehend the possibility that Scott actually loved him. "What about Danny?" he said stupidly, unsure which of the millions of thoughts in his head to vocalize.

"Danny understood," Scott said, almost solemnly. "He told me that he couldn't get in the way of us. If anything, he helped me realize that I love you."

Stiles still couldn't process all of the new information. "How..." he started to ask a question, turning to look at Scott. Now the boy was starting to cry. His face was reddening, and the dark pools of his eyes started to deepen, welling up at the corners as his mouth contorted. Stiles was taken aback.

"When I saw you singing a minute ago, I couldn't-" Scott stopped, overcome. "I hated myself for making you feel like that. When you sing, it's like you're talking inside of my brain. I get it. And I can't believe that I made you feel like that. Like I didn't love you. I hate myself for ruining your happiness. Now all I want to do is make you feel better. I just want to love you."

Stiles started to smile, then faltered. "I don't think we can just go on like nothing happened," Stiles said, feeling chagrined as he thought of his outburst in front of the pack.

As if they'd been listening at the door, Derek, Peter, Isaac, Danny, Jackson, and Lydia filed through the door. Stiles stared in disbelief as the tiny room suddenly became quite cramped. He felt somewhat embarrassed as he continued to think of the last time they'd all seen each other.

"We need you back, Stiles," Isaac said, looking intense. "We all miss you."

"No, you don't need another human," Stiles said, looking at the ground and feeling useless.

"Yes, we do," Derek chimed in. "It's different without you. We're like a family, and you'll always be a part of us."

"It's true," Peter jumped in unexpectedly. "We're a pack. We have a dynamic, and when one of our members goes missing, we find him. We can't just leave you behind, biologically. You're a part of this for life, whether or not you like it."

"You mean I can never leave?" Stiles asked, sniffling and laughing to himself a bit.

"You always have a choice," Scott said before anyone else could respond. "We only want you back if you're willing to come."

All eyes were on Stiles as he looked at the faces surrounding him. Scott looked stern and serious, not wanting to force Stiles into any decision. Derek looked somewhat peeved with Scott at having answered for him, and generally somewhat disheveled from spending the past week in a car. This alone spoke to the fact that he wanted Stiles back. Derek wouldn't spend a week in a car for just anyone. Peter looked cool and calculating as ever. Stiles figured that he only came because having Stiles in the group benefited him in some way. But something in the man's eyes made him think that he honestly was happy to see the boy, even if it was just relief at not having to sleep in a car anymore. Isaac looked hopeful, like he couldn't help but show the fact that he felt anxious with a member of his pack gone. He chewed self-consciously on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Danny and Lydia stood side by side, looking as if they were watching a romance movie. Lydia looked to be in hopeful suspense, a tear in the corner of her eye. Danny looked almost nervous. Even Jackson looked somewhat hopeful, but immediately returned to his usual aloof look when he realized that Stiles was looking at him. Everyone but Scott looked a little dirty and disheveled, with wrinkly clothes and messy hair. Obviously, they'd had a rough week.

Suddenly, it struck him. This was his home. These people were his family, and no matter where he went, if they were with him, he was home. He couldn't run away from them, because they would always be with him, even if they weren't physically there. There was a bond between them that would stretch however far Stiles ran, and would stay just as strong.

He fell into Scott's loving arms. "Let's go home," he said, fighting tears. Scott pressed his face against Stiles' and they fell into a warm kiss, passionate and tender. It felt right, exactly as Stiles had imagined. For Stiles, it was like seeing the house he grew up in, or looking at pictures of him and his mom. Somehow, it was perfect, like a part of him. He realized this now. He thought he was alone. The thought that he'd ruined his relationship with everyone he cared about by blowing up at Scott. He thought that nobody cared about him, and there was nothing left for him in Beacon Hills. So he ran. But he didn't realize that when he ran, the wolves ran with him.


	12. Epilogue

**since it's the epilogue, time has passed**

Stiles sat down on the couch, smiling. Scott sat next to him, leaving a little room between them to show respect to Sheriff Stilinski. Unsatisfied, the Sheriff plopped down on the couch between them, making them scoot out of the way to avoid getting hit by his falling posterior.

"Dad, we're engaged," Stiles said, waving the little silver band on his finger in his dad's face. It was a simple band, with three elegantly interlacing swirls on the top in a triskele. "I think we should be able to sit next to each other at least."

The Sheriff made a face at the boy. "As long as you're in my house-"

"I know, I know," Stiles said, patting his dad on the knee. Stiles figured that his dad's protective nature was probably because Scott was the reason that his son had left him. In a little while, he knew his dad would get over it. Besides, his dad still loved Scott, even if he didn't like him being in a room alone with Stiles. He didn't want his son to get too attached, he'd said, in case Scott hurt him again.

"Anyway," Mr. Stilinski said, "you're hardly old enough to get married. You're not really _engaged_."

Stiles hugged his ring finger to his chest, cradling the symbol of Scott's love. "Alright, we're engaged to be engaged," Scott said with a smile, teasing Stiles' father. Scott had explained the real meaning of the ring when he gave it to Stiles. It wasn't really an engagement ring, but more of a promise that he would never hurt Stiles like that again. He promised to always consider how his actions could effect Stiles. _Don't think that means I'll be a push over, though,_ he'd joked. Stiles knew that there was some emotion behind the statement, though. He'd also hurt Scott by leaving. Worse yet, that was his intention. By accepting the ring, he'd promised not to hurt Scott either. It was really a promise of mutual respect.

The Sheriff looked confused as Scott got up and went to the door. Lydia was just walking up to the door, the others in tow behind her. "How did he know?" Mr. Stilinski asked his son.

"Wolf nose," Stiles whispered, smiling. The Sheriff made an unhappy face. It was difficult to explain to the man that his son was in love with a supernatural creature. They left out quite a few details, including how many of the town's recent crimes were connected to the supernatural denizens within the city. Now, he begrudgingly accepted the fact, but still seemed uncomfortable addressing it.

"Hey!" Lydia said, setting down a plate of homemade cookies on the coffee table in front of the couch before sitting on an ottoman.

"It's about time," Stiles said. "We've got, like, two minutes."

"Blame Lydia," Jackson said as he strolled confidently through the door. "She took, like, twenty minutes getting changed when she didn't like what she was wearing."

"Blame Danny, he said it made me look like Kirstie Alley," Lydia said with an angry look at the boy.

"A _young_ Kirstie Alley. She was pretty!" Danny said, sitting next to Jackson on the arm of an easy chair.

"Would you both just stop it? We're here on time, get over it," Derek said, walking through the door. The Sheriff stood and they shook hands.

Scott followed Isaac into the living room, closing the front door behind him. Almost the entire pack was seated in the Stilinskis' living room, waiting eagerly. Peter wasn't able to make it, since they hadn't told the Sheriff about his return yet. They figured that werewolves were enough for a while, and that they would wait a while to break the whole returning to life thing to him.

"You know what's weird?" Lydia said to Scott as he sat down next to the Sheriff. "A few months ago, we would've never believed that this was happening. You know, that we were all sitting around together again."

"Especially since Stiles was only gone for, like, a week or so," Derek mumbled, not looking at anyone in particular.

"Still, it's felt different after he came back. Better," Isaac said, looking around the room. "It's like I don't want to leave when we're all in the same room together."

"I dunno, I've seen Scott and Stiles leave together plenty of times," Jackson said with a mischievous grin. Stiles turned a dark shade of red, and Scott stared darkly at Jackson. Mr. Stilinski helped himself to a cookie, acting as if he didn't notice the comment, though the reddening color on his cheeks suggested differently. Stiles couldn't help thinking about the first time that he and Scott had tried to sneak away from the group.

The whole pack had been hanging around in Scott's house while his mom was on the night shift. They were all watching a marathon of a show they liked, when Stiles and Scott surreptitiously tried to sneak off while everyone was talking. They slipped into the hallway, and Scott carried Stiles up the stairs, since his wolfy feet were more apt to miss the creaky floorboards. They made it upstairs, and into Scott's bedroom. He'd lain Stiles on the bed, and kissed him gently from head to toe. Stiles could barely remember how both of their clothes had come off, since he'd been busy kissing Scott. For a long time, they'd just lain on the bed, kissing each other.

Stiles had smiled and kissed Scott as he carried him back down the stairs. "I guess that was my first time," he'd whispered lightly into his neck. Scott had laughed a little under his breath. It wasn't until they both casually strolled back into the living room that they realized they hadn't gone unnoticed. Every eye in the room turned toward them.

A few nights later, Derek told Scott that all of the wolves in the room could hear everything. And smell everything. He'd laughed it off, but when he told Stiles, the boy had blushed. Jackson now recanted this, just to drive the point home. "I mean, we could've put up with hearing you two, but the smell was really too far," Jackson said, smirking like a jerk.

"Jackson!" Lydia and Derek chided together, Lydia's staccato, impetuous voice in contrast with Derek's deep, commanding one. Danny smacked his friend gently on the head. Mr. Stilinski and his son both turned deeper shades of red, and Scott seemed almost proud as he wistfully remembered the night.

"Guys! Shut up, it's starting!" Stiles yelled, completely forgetting his embarrassment. He walked over to the large radio, and turned the volume up high. Nobody had even noticed that it was on.

A radio announcer's voice welcomed the listeners back to their radio station, listing off several things that would be playing shortly. Everyone was silent in anticipation. They'd all heard the song several times, but Stiles made sure that none of them had heard the studio version yet. Of course, he'd given them all copies of his first CD, but he made each solemnly promise that they wouldn't listen to the track that was slated to be his first single.

Stiles anticipation dissolved. He realized from the looks on everyone's faces that none of them had actually listened to the song. They'd all kept their promises to him. He unconsciously rubbed the triskele on his finger. Whether the single flopped or he became a superstar, it didn't matter. What really mattered was this. His family. The people he could rely on, the people for whome he'd written these songs. In fact, there was one song on the album dedicated to each person in the room, which he'd written with them in mind. And one for his mother.

Suddenly, he didn't care if they didn't play his song. None of it mattered, as long as these people would stick with him through the journey. He listened to the radio again. "And now he have our first song by a newcomer, Stiles, off of his new album, _Running with Wolves,_" the voice announced. "You're listening to his first single off the album, _Scott_."


End file.
